Disharmony: a Jigsaw Collection of Misguided Dating

By Rachel R. Kovach

Have you ever left a horrible date and asked yourself What is wrong with you? Are you getting another year older and find yourself at the brink of accepting your fate dying alone surrounded by feral cats, rescue dogs and odd figurines? If you have reached that point, this book is for you. DisHarmony: A Jigsaw Collection of Misguided Dating is an assembly of short stories, poems and art pieces that represent the highs and lows of a woman’s crooked and entertaining path toward finding love. From blind dates to online dating misadventures, a journey of self-discovery unfolds which affirms the truth that you cannot find love with anyone else until you truly love yourself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781984580689

Rachel R. Kovach

Rachel R Kovach is an avid lover of the beauties and tragedies that lie on the bumpy road of life. Currently pursing her doctorate at Liberty University, she previously achieved her Bachelor’s Degree from Sacramento State University in Criminal Justice and transitioned careers into education as she earned her Master’s Degree from Brandman University. Kovach views herself as an advocate for those who cannot be a voice for themselves. From disability rights in education to global animal rights, Kovach believes that acts of kindness and acceptance are what improve our society and reshape our definition of normal. Kovach is as equally passionate about her work and advocacy as she is in familia, coffee and quality time with friends and loved ones. Her parents and grandparent’s marriages serve as her role models toward living a life filled with love and laughter.

Book preview

DISHARMONY:

A JIGSAW

COLLECTION OF

MISGUIDED DATING

Rachel R. Kovach

Copyright © 2020 by Rachel R. Kovach.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of non-fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 05/21/2020

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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Dedicated to Joe and Renee and John and Rosie

for setting the highest expectations for a lifelong partner

and teaching so many how to love for eternity.

Dedicated to my partner in life,

wherever you may be.

I love you, and I am praying for you

until I am yours.

Racklee

CONTENTS

I: A Beginning To Every Story

II: April’s Fool

III: Blind Dating

IV: Confessions Of A Catholic Woman

V: Destiny Is To Be Determined

VI: Ever Prepared

VII: Flirtation And Fear—A Double-Edged Sword

VIII: Generosity: Giving Versus Receiving

IX: Heart Attack (RK Arts)

X: Instaloving Or Instalosing?

XI: Junk In The Trash (RK Arts)

XII: Knowing They Are The One

XIII: Losing The Fantasy

XIV: Marriage And Its Consequences

XV: Novels That Turn Into Movies That Turn Into Expectations

XVI: Orgasms And The Games We Play To Get Them

XVII: Proximity Theory

XVIII: Questioning All That Come Into Our Path

XIX: Romance Is Dead (RK Arts)

XX: Scars

XXI: Thankful For Ghosts

XXII: Untouchable

XXIII: Valentines Are For Schmucks

XXIV: Whiskey Princess

XXV: X’s And Oh No’s (RK Arts)

XXVI: You Are A Queen

XXVII: Zealots For The Majestic Fairy Tale, Listen Up!

I: A BEGINNING TO

EVERY STORY

Getting to know another human being in our time has become quite the feat. What was once a simple concept has produced novels, television shows, therapies, and religions that help our fearful selves explore the concept of attaching to another person, another life, or another path. One hundred years ago, courting rituals included arranged dinners by parental units to see if compatibility was possible. Examples of youthful rebellion included sneaking off to a speakeasy and dancing in underground jazz clubs, which allowed many to interact, discover passion, and stumble into love. Sixty years ago, couples settled in the sharing of pins, jackets, and rings to display their love for one another. A boom in hedonistic ideals such as free love and polygamy provided a needed shake-up to mainstream dating culture in order for humanity to grow and evolve.

As the decades have fallen together in a heap of pop culture and movie quotes, our society has become more dependent on the use of technology to help us communicate. Our lives have become reliant on instant gratification—having what we want when we want it rather than working hard to build a foundation that will see us through the most trying of hardships. The technology era has become useful in helping the overscheduled find time for social interactions and dalliances of love without the burden of long-term commitment and follow-through. With the click of a button and the swipe of a finger, humans are able to share interests and dreams with one another using multiple interfaces for desired image distribution.

I myself have wandered the crooked path of love through many friend suggestions, endless apps, and cliché websites that promise everlasting love, companionship, and laughter with the enlistment of my membership and credit-card information. While I avoided the corny commercials and adorable advertisements that spammed my digital mailboxes, I eventually catered to their temptations and enjoyed multiple six- to twelve-month explorations of the dating world. While none of the gentlemen I encountered became my true match in life, I could argue that I gained more lessons about the ways of our age with them than I had while seeking my bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral degrees.

It is an interesting dating era in which we live. Currently, the battle lines for dating decorum are completely blurred. Previous societal and gender roles, while not necessarily accurate in depicting the traits of every individual, provided structure and formula. These courting rituals were followed to find a long-term companion, lover, and match. Yet as my array of dating experiences has proven, those rules and standards are obsolete and disregarded. There isn’t an exact science to meeting the right person. It requires men to jump through a multitude of hoops to effectively and appropriately engage with women, and it requires women to be constantly analyzing and adjusting their standards and expectations—all while taking the perfect selfie. While these pieces are continuously evolving, there are higher occurrences of miscommunication, missed opportunities, and dismissed engagements.

From my varied experiences, I have always found comfort in order and purpose. When I reflected on the ups and tumbling downs of dating, I realized that many of the lessons I learned began being categorized in an alphabetical fashion. While the perfectionist in me would like to present my readers with the exact alphabet as to why the dating experience is such a hot mess, I truly don’t have all the answers or experiences I need to formulate those letters. I may stumble upon those letters in my future; it just depends on who wanders into my path next.

These stories are for many audiences, for those seeking comedy within a topic that produces many emotions of dissatisfaction and awkwardness, and for the bleeding heart that lives to find their happily ever after only to find their heart crumbling as another holiday passes by without their significant other in sight. This is an account of the many lessons and stories that paved the imperfect path of love in which I wandered, and I do wish that my experiences bring you laughter, wisdom, and hope.

II: APRIL’S FOOL

I’m terrified.

My bones are stiffening

Muscles locking into a fearful rigidity

I can feel the increasing pressure of air in my body gripping my internal organs with the fiercest grip.

April is approaching.

Thirty days didn’t used to be so daunting

So horrific

So spine chilling

Yet as it approaches,

The frozen castle protecting my heart is securing its defenses

My ribs are coated with a tempered resin,

A security blanket that protects my lungs through the month long storm,

For I will be holding my breath more often than not to survive.

April’s weapons are cruel and calculating,

The attacks are silent and come without warning,

I should have learned, I should be better

Each memory a tainted poison that coats her daggers for long term suffering

She seems to improve her tactics as the years have past.

The memories of loss and failure are ever present,

The life I wanted, the ones I needed,

Now transformed into dust, into pain, into isolation,

I can’t silence the scream that sends vibrations through my blood,

Ghosts of the missing place their hands upon my throat,

Surrendering to the pain would give her another win,

My pride cannot let that be.

Other months have granted me courage and strength,

I could almost forget that I shall face the fourth month again.

The warmth of the summer melts the fortress trapping my spirit,

Fall’s changing colors remind me to forgive,

The winter allows for hope and possibilities to reignite my passions and daydream for what can be,

Yet it is spring that betrays me,

For April is ready.

The torment never ceases

April is constant

The mocking flower blossoms evidence of her victory,

My tears and blood the nutrients that allow her spoils to thrive

What fool would volunteer to be by my side though this battle?

I can’t blame them for walking away

For we all have ghosts to reckon with

I am prepared to battle April once again,

My right hand aching for another to be beside it in a war with no end

III: BLIND DATING

Creatures of habit enjoy their routines by the nature of their title alone. They will typically rise to the day within the same hour window, roll to their preferred side, stretch the opposite leg that fell asleep during their night of tossing and turning, discover the internal discipline within themselves to sit up to the side of the bed, place their feet upon the floor in a count of three, and progress through the navigation of their day. These poster children of predisposition will enter their favorite café and communicate repetitive pleasantries and daily banter without saying a word of their order because the barista started developing their beverage from the moment they heard the daily patron’s vehicle pull up to their unspoken-but-agreed-upon parking spot. This is a session that lasts thirty to sixty minutes, depending on the day of the week that it occurs, and then the consumer drinks their coffee and strategizes how to conquer the obstacles and changes that will most likely alter their daily tasks.

It is because of this need for order, which is found inside the very fibers of their muscle tissues and skeletal forms, that blind dates are tsunamis that crash upon the shoreline of structure’s paradise. The lack of control and the fearful residual effects of the approaching shadowed encounter leave the planned participant riddled with crazed w questions that haunt the mind. Who is he? What does he do? Where did we agree to meet? Why did I say yes? What if this blind date is just the Grim Reaper’s opportunity of arranging my scheduled murder? While it may sound like I am exaggerating, this storm of questions flooded my mind when I agreed to meet him, the single highway-patrol officer who loved coffee and beagles as much as I did—that is, according to his mother.

You see, I have fallen prey to my routine and stumbled into my favorite café on a sunshine-filled Friday when, to my surprise, I did not